Drug Lord

by DeRosa, Mila

  “You don’t owe me anything, Sally. You’re a hard worker, as Luke will be as soon as I find a suitable role for him.”

  “I already told you, man, I’m not working for you. I have a job, they’re like family to me there.” A male voice, younger and less appealing, cut in.

  Bryn frowned, frustrated not to be able to see who was in the room with him and Sally.

  “Quit it, Luke.” Sally’s voice was firm as usual; clearly she wasn’t the one crying.

  The dull headache increased to a throb, as she strained to piece the puzzle together.

  “Baxter would slaughter his own flesh and blood given half the chance. That’s not any sort of family you want to get caught up in with, trust me. That bastard is as cold hearted as the devil, getting kids to do his dirty work.” Reeves paused. “I’d sooner kill you myself then turn you over to him.”

  The sobbing began again.

  “Now, you will go home with your Mom and, Sally, one wrong move I’ll be all over him like small pox. Are we clear?”

  The muttered response could only have been accompanied with a nod. There was no way anyone would dare defy a threat like that, especially when dished out by Reeves.

  “Bryn, you may come in now.” There was no malice in his tone. Damn those security cameras.

  Sally sniffed and attempted a smile in her direction, as she bustled the young boy from the room, Bryn recognized him as the mouthy teens she encountered in the street.

  She raised one eyebrow at Reeves, but didn’t dare speak until he addressed her. She knew the ropes, after all, and that moment wasn’t the one to test his patience.

  He strode over and closed the door as soon as they were out of the room.

  Bryn watched his every move. Strong, elegant, there was no doubt in her mind, this man had all the right moves, and at that moment she knew one touch and she would be as pliable as clay in the hands of a sculptor. With hands pressed against the door, he let his head dip forward, as if he too had experienced a longer than usual day.

  He straightened, drew in a deep breath and then turned to face her. He exhaled. The slight trace of a smile teased the corners of his mouth, but the look in his eyes was like ice. His brow creased in a momentary frown, and smoothed almost as fast. “Please.” He gestured to a replica of the VIP sofa in the club. “Make yourself comfortable—Bryndel.” He cocked his head to the side, no doubt gauging her reaction.

  She hesitated a moment, but resisted the urge to flinch as he used the name only her father ever referred to her by. “I’m comfortable standing, but thanks for the offer.” She arched one eyebrow and waited for him to make the next move.

  Chapter 4

  More than her name he didn’t let on to knowing, and Bryn wasn’t about to offer a run down. He owned the establishment it was his business to know who was working for him. He’d be a fool not to.

  “I insist we sit.” He raised his eyebrows, obviously awaiting her protest, but she wasn’t so defiant.

  A shrug enough of a response as she turned toward the replica of the sofa in the club. Lowering herself, she couldn’t help but feel vulnerable—he the hunter and she the prey—cornered.

  “So, Bryndel—”

  “Bryn.” The use of her full name put her on edge.

  He nodded. A smile teased the corners of his lips, but he didn’t bother to repeat her preferred name. “We haven’t been properly introduced, but I gather you know who I am.” He paused, though she sensed he wasn’t expecting confirmation. “Would you care to share a bit about yourself?”

  “Nope.” He asked an honest question so she gave an honest answer, with no apologies.

  The smile that threatened moments before spread to a wide grin. “So, why the impenetrable guard?”

  Bryn tilted her head to the side and analyzed him, as Sally had warned her not to do. He was as good-looking upon stare as he was at a quick glance, perhaps even better. “Why so many questions?” She arched one eyebrow enjoying the banter, but cautious not to push too far. He was her boss, after all, and she couldn’t afford to be without work.

  “I usually make it my business to know more than the first name of one of my employees. Somehow you slipped under the radar.” He sat back in his seat and stared back at her in much the same way as she had him.

  She’d covered her tracks pretty carefully for years. Even if returning to town turned out to be a mistake, she was tired of running.

  If he wanted the dirt on her, she had no doubt Reeves had the power and the funds to dig up more than even she knew about herself. A corrupt cop was never far away, willing to earn a little extra cash on the side. With the way he paid his staff, she didn’t doubt he’d make it worthwhile.

  “Well, what do you want to know?” There was no point provoking a sleeping bear.

  “Why Highfliers? What brought you here in the first place?” He draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

  “I know the town, and a few people, so settling here had a certain appeal.” She shrugged. It wasn’t as though she’d sought out a job there, as such. The idea of safety came to her after Reeves’ cleaner, who happened to be doing laundry in her apartment building, mentioned a vacancy for a waitress. “Your cleaner said there was a job going, so I applied. Didn’t think I’d get it, but here I am.” With not an ounce of experience, or natural skill, she’d lasted longer than she expected.

  “Yes, here you are.” Reeves sat back in the sofa, arms splayed to either side and resting on the top of the low line cushions.

  Trying to read him wasn’t so easy, so she waited for his next question. He may have been her boss, but her private life was her own and no way was she offering it up for him to pick to pieces. Every detail she offered was on her terms, despite him thinking he was in control. And, she didn’t need to know him well to realize he thrived on taking control.

  “Where did you live before settling in Darlinghurst?” The question was innocent enough, but had no bearing on her working for him.

  “Here and there.” Vague was always a good option.

  “Okay. What did you do for work?”

  “This and that.”

  He raised his eyebrows and frowned.

  Bryn arched one eyebrow, daring him to continue his interrogation.

  Reeve leaned forward, elbows rested casually on his knees, his stare so intense she felt its effect to her core. “What are you running from?”

  Keeping a poker face wasn’t so easy when he summed up the nature of her situation in the first ten minutes of his interview.

  “What makes you think I’m running?”

  “If you had nothing to hide then you’d give me straight answers.” He leaned back, the frown faded from his face confirming he was convinced his accusation was correct. “You’ve hardly given me a straight answer since I first encountered you.”

  “Oh, trust me, many of my answers have been straight. Especially the one about whether I cared to share my private life with you.” Too frustrated to sit, she stood as gracefully as she could muster without straining—the sofa was so low to the floor. “My shift starts in ten minutes, if you’re done then I’d really like to get started.” She folded her arms across her chest and awaited his dismissal.

  Reeves stood, not so close to her, but even from a distance she could tell that she’d only reach his shoulder. Broad and well defined through his black fitted shirt, as was his chest—the perfect height to rest her head against, should he wrap his arms around her.

  Bryn blinked, silently scolding herself as her thoughts travelled a path she never planned to explore. Reeves Walker was like quicksand and she needed to keep a safe distance so as not to sink.

  Crossing the room to the door, Reeves paused before pulling it open to let her past. He turned to face her, hand still resting on the door nob. “Patience is not my strongest quality, as waitressing is not yours, but I’m sure this set up we have here is one we can both learn from.” He took a step backwards. “I consider my staff family, of whom I’m very
protective. You can stop running now, Bryn. They’ll never catch you whilst I’m around.” He pulled the door wide and with his free hand gestured the path for her to exit.

  The only thing she could think to do was nod for fear of confirming his suspicions or declining his help. Safety was what she was seeking, and working for Reeves had seemed the perfect solution. Not so perfect as the words he offered to confirm she wasn’t on her own. For the first time in seven years, she felt safe.

  On the floor and waiting tables was the best place for Bryn to be. Her mind consumed with drink orders, and focusing on delivering them in the state in which they were poured, was better than thinking about Baxter and his boys. Street kids, or those in need of making fast cash, forced to sell drugs instead of building a sustainable future made her wild.

  Although she had been privileged to a decent education, she was no better off than those she left behind to work the streets. No doubt, a hell of a lot worse off financially, too.

  Reeves was right, she was the lousiest waitress in the establishment and he insisted on her serving his most elite guests.

  “Keep frowning like that and you’ll end up with permanent creases.” Sara, one of the main floor waitresses, sidled up to her at the bar.

  Bryn groaned, then laughed. “Botox here I come.”

  “You’ll need to work day and night to afford that on a waitress wage, even though Reeves pays better than anywhere else I’ve worked—not to mention the bonuses.” She wiggled her eyebrows and laughed as Bryn’s frown deepened.

  “Bonuses?” It was the first she’d heard anyone speak of bonuses. From the expression on Sara’s face, it was the last time she wanted to hear of it too.

  “That.” She nodded her head in the direction of the elitists sprawled around the cutting table. “I wonder who will be the lucky one tonight.”

  “Lucky?” Bryn scoffed. “What’s lucky about being a notch on his belt? I’d say lucky would be if you don’t contract chlamydia.” Glad she hadn’t picked up the tray of drinks as she shuddered involuntary. Reeves reputation was more than just rumor; an instant turn off for her, but obviously her opinion wasn’t widely shared.

  “Gross thought, but worth the risk.” Sara leaned over the bar and picked up an empty tray. “Well, guess there’s no time to stargaze, not so lucky as you getting up close and personal with the boss.” She winked. “You should reconsider. You might be in with a shot.” Laughter was swallowed by the noise, as was she by the crowd.

  Not sure which of them had the better deal. Bryn weighed up the options—serving Reeves and the mob or battling the brawl of sweaty bodies in the mosh pit.

  Reeves glanced over, with a flick of his head he motioned for her to tend to his guests. Her sigh was masked by the noise as she lifted the loaded tray from the bar. Hiding from Baxter, even in the beginning when he sent his men out to find her, was less stressful than the heavy load in the palm of her hand.

  “Took your time,” the painted mutton sitting to the right of Reeves muttered as Bryn set a martini on the table in front of her.

  “And, it was worth the wait. Thank you, Bryn.” Reeves smiled, ever the charmer. “But, I will be taking the rest of my orders in my private quarters.” He stood, picking up the glass she placed in front of him and leaned in so his mouth was close to her ear. “Please inform Ray and Mario that no one is to disturb me. I need some distance from all this.” His eyes flicked to his usual mob and then settled on Ms. Martini. Uncertain as to whether or not he intended to drag her into his den, so as not to have to wait the night out to get his fix, Bryn took a step back and offered a nod.

  “Please excuse me, I have important matters to take care of. Enjoy your evening.” Just as when he entered a room, the crowd paused when he left. Ms. Martini eagerly awaited his summon. When it didn’t come, a pout replaced her plastic smile.

  Chapter 5

  There was no denying Bryn had caught his attention. Beautiful and feisty, she was everything he wanted in a woman. Playing the field bored him, one woman blended with the next, the same eagerness to please without a thought for her own needs.

  One-night stands had served their purpose, but of late he’d been looking for a relationship with substance. Bedding the same carbon copy night after night wasn’t going to get him what he was looking for. Times were changing, and so was he.

  Cleaning up the streets was his aim, educating the kids to say no rather than drawing them in to a lifestyle he’d adopted when he was too young to think for himself. Still, Baxter was preying on the youth, giving them a taste of what money could buy whilst they were still too naive to realize that few had a way out of his web, unless six feet under was an option.

  He’d done his fair share of time and engaged in more not so proud moments than he wanted to think about. If he could go back and change the road he took to get to where he was, he would in a heartbeat. Life was about learning from the lessons sent to test. He’d learnt from those dished out to him. At a point now where he was ready to take a chance—to turn on his own for the sake of future generations.

  Working alone was a foreign concept, one he wasn’t convinced he could upkeep. Outreach would play a huge part in pulling his plans together, so he wouldn’t be on his own for long.

  No doubt, the title Drug Lord wasn’t such a stimulant for Bryn as it seemed to be to other women. Guarded was an understatement, yet she portrayed fearless better than any of the hard asses he’d managed in the past. However, he was certain the portrayal was merely a mask.

  It was going to take more than bad-boy charm to win the heart of a woman of Bryn’s caliber. Commitment wasn’t something Reeves took lightly, and when that someone special came into his life her happiness would become his top priority.

  Sentimental wasn’t his style, but meeting Bryn had given him something to think about. Be it with her or one of her kind, settling down and building a life was something he was now willing to consider. A healthy relationship and family life was not something he’d been privy to, but a challenge he hoped to conquer.

  The phone rang, a much needed distraction from nostalgia. Caller ID failed to identify, so he left it to go to message bank. Despite his reputation, nuisance callers, or telemarketers in search of sponsorship, never failed to make contact. And although he could afford to be generous, he was pouring his funds into a charity of his own.

  Paperwork never appealed to him, and his youth project was seeing the pile of files on his desk growing. The temptation of hiring a personal assistant was increasing, yet he wasn’t quite ready to share his ideas with anyone other than those with a vested interest in the project.

  He sighed as a knock on the door pulled his attention in yet another direction. “Come in.” There were only three possibilities if his guards valued their job, so he was safe it’d be a minor distraction.

  Sat back in his desk chair, he smiled when Bryn walked in carrying a tray with one glass rather than eight plus.

  “Now that is more your style.” There was no denying she was better for the establishment than she was at doing her job—good to look at, but that was the depth of her skill.

  “What? Serving you?” She arched one eyebrow and a smile teased the corners of her mouth.

  “I could get used to it.” He grinned; the flirt was fun with her. Edgy, with the fear of being put back in his place as fast as he stepped over the boundary, added to the appeal.

  “Seriously, don’t.” She winked as she lifted the glass from the tray with her free hand and set it on the coaster to his left.

  “Nicely done. However, I can’t deny I’m not disappointed that you didn’t settle on my desk before passing that one my way.”

  “Smooth.” She turned to leave, then looked over her shoulder as if there was something she wanted to say but was censoring before delivering.

  “I never picked you as the type to consider your words before you spoke.” The smile on his face was enough to indicate he was teasing.

  She stopped and turned back
to face him. “I never picked you as one to leave the party early—or alone.” She dipped her head and offered a small curtsey.

  So she’d noticed. “Turning over a new leaf.” He shrugged, not apologizing for his past behaviour. “So are you going to spit out what it was you wanted to say?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing really—my shift ends in an hour, will you be needing a refill before then?” She nodded toward the glass.

  “With a pile of files so high,” he gestured to the mountain to his right. “I think I’ll switch to coffee—tell me you make a better pot than your ability to juggle trays.” He laughed as the expression on her face changed to shock.

  “Huh—I don’t believe making coffee was part of my job description.” She folded her arms across her chest, tray tilted and dripping a cocktail of previously spilt beverages on the carpet.

  “So, did I mention drink spillage would be deducted from your wages?” He opted for a straight face—her reaction intrigued him.

  “Oh, well, shit, looks like I’m going to owe you by the time I finish my shift tonight.”

  “I’d say you already owe me big time.” He nodded toward the pool of liquid attempting to penetrate the plush pile.

  “Oh shit.” She leveled the tray as soon as she glanced down, swiping the cloth from where she’d tucked it in her waistband, leaving it drape to free for ease of access. On her knees, she soaked up the spill, and then sat back on her heels as if inspecting the stain. “That one’s on me—let me know what I owe you.” She winced, ever so slightly, but enough for him to notice.

  He was going to have fun with this. Pushing his chair back from his desk, he crossed the room to stand in front of where she knelt. Peering up at him through thick lashes, in that position, was a test on his self-control. “It’s not going to come cheap.” He shook his head and rubbed his jaw, then raised his eyebrows. Taking a step forward he offered Bryn a hand up, which she accepted.